


June

by lemonsorbae



Series: Shoe Box Verse [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Artist Castiel, Blow Jobs, Carpenter Dean, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 22:11:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1874340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonsorbae/pseuds/lemonsorbae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Cross posted from <a href="http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com/post/90389221098/june">tumblr</a>. And a special thanks to everyone still reading this verse. You're keeping it alive at this point and I so appreciate all of you! *offers you endless amounts of love, unicorns, and bubbles*</p>
    </blockquote>





	June

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted from [tumblr](http://jimmynovakisaved.tumblr.com/post/90389221098/june). And a special thanks to everyone still reading this verse. You're keeping it alive at this point and I so appreciate all of you! *offers you endless amounts of love, unicorns, and bubbles*

The gentle creak of floorboards rouses Dean from his sleep and he rolls over in bed, sleep heavy eyes scanning the darkness for the source of the noise. As his eyes adjust he finds Castiel's form looming over the bed, dropping his messenger bag to the ground and toeing off his shoes.

"Cas?" Dean croaks because his fiancé isn't supposed to be home until morning, yet here he is, rumpled and tired looking and peeling himself out of his clothes.

"We finished everything up tonight," Castiel replies quietly, "and staying the night in a hotel when you were just two hours away seemed ridiculous."

Dean smiles at him as Castiel climbs into bed and Dean pulls him in for a long awaited kiss.

As Castiel settles under the covers Dean throws an arm over Castiel's middle and a leg over Cas' legs and tucks his head onto Castiel's shoulder, pressing his face against the other man's neck and breathing deeply. "Missed you," Dean mutters.

After Castiel's art had been shown at the Josie Sands Gallery of Contemporary Art they had offered him a six month contract to show his work. Ever since then he'd been commuting back and forth to get everything ready as well as traveling with Balthazar to meet with a few new out-of-state clients he'd garnered during the show. It was wonderful for Castiel's career, but it meant that he was gone. A lot. And Dean had spent most of June alone in their apartment with no one but Vincent to keep him company.

"I missed you too," Castiel says with a kiss to Dean's hair.

They're apartment falls silent after that and before he knows it Dean is asleep once more.

 

When morning comes, Dean slips out of bed before Castiel awakens and creeps into the kitchen to start breakfast. He hasn't seen Castiel in five days and he has every intention in making the most of their time together starting with a hearty breakfast in bed.

He whips up a couple of omelets and fries some potatoes, makes a stack of pancakes and cooks several strips of bacon and is just pulling a carton of OJ out of the fridge when Castiel begins to stir.

Dean juggles a tray with enough food for the both of them piled onto one plate and the orange juice over to the bed, watching Vincent as he paws at Castiel's mussed hair from where it pokes out from the covers.

"I smell food," Castiel mumbles, his voice muffled from beneath the folds of down comforter covering his face.

"That's because you have the most awesome fiancé in the universe," Dean states, "I made breakfast, get up."

"How about I don't get up and you just feed me instead?" Castiel suggests, rolling over to blink heavy lidded eyes at Dean.

"How about I eat it all myself," Dean counters. He sets the tray on the nightstand next to their bed so it won't be jostled by their movements and climbs back onto the bed, scratching behind Vincent's ears before gently lifting the cat off of Castiel and letting him drop softly to floor.

"Sorry, buddy," he mutters to the cat, "no eating in bed with me today."

"You let the cat eat with you in bed?" Castiel asks, accusation in his voice. He extracts himself from underneath the covers and reluctantly pushes himself into a sitting position as Dean pulls the tray from the nightstand and situates it on the bed.  

"Yeah well, nobody at home to keep me company but him so. Why, you jealous?"

"No," Castiel corrects, "I'm hungry." He reaches across the tray and pulls a strip of bacon off of the plate, crunching down on it satisfyingly as he eyes Dean.

Dean watches him chew for a few seconds, taking in the light stubble on his jaw and the endearing disarray of Castiel's bed head before leaning over and pecking a kiss on the other man's lips.

"Good morning," Castiel says quietly around a smile.

Dean smiles back, warmth blooming in his chest at having Castiel back home and in bed with him. "Morning, baby."

He hands Castiel some utensils and they huddle together over the tray, digging in to the breakfast Dean prepared. Castiel hoards most of the bacon, dipping it into the syrup that's oozing off the pancakes and pooling on the plate, but doesn't complain when Dean eats half of Cas' omelet and so Dean lets it slide. When they finish, stomachs full and content Dean carries the tray back to the kitchen and starts a sink full of warm, sudsy water to clean their dishes with.

"When you leaving again?" Dean asks as he sticks his hands in the water and grapples for the sponge.

"Monday," Castiel responds, "But, I'll be home in time for your graduation and then indefinitely after that unless Balthazar informs me otherwise."

Dean nods, registering he and Cas have two days together, and focuses his attention on the dirty dishes at hand. He scrubs at them silently for a moment before strong arms close around his midsection and the drag of lips can be felt from his shoulder to the back of his neck.

"Never knew me doing the dishes turns you on," Dean comments around a smirk as Castiel fixes his mouth to the curve where shoulder becomes neck and laves with his tongue.

Castiel pulls away briefly admitting, "I do find your domesticity arousing," and then he's nipping at the other side of Dean's neck, settling warm palms on Dean's hips and pressing his budding arousal against Dean's cotton clad rear end.

"Dean, I'm trying to initiate sexual intercourse with you, I would appreciate some participation on your part."

"Gimmie a sec, babe, I'm doing the dishes," Dean says, feigning disinterest. In all reality there's arousal bubbling beneath his skin from Castiel's touch, but he's in the mood to play hard to get, seeing how far he can push the other man like Castiel pushes him.

At that Castiel groans and then his hands are on Dean's shoulders and he's turning Dean around and crowding him up against the biting edge of the counter top.

"The dishes can wait," he growls and then he closes his mouth over Dean's smile, plunging his tongue inside Dean's mouth and kissing him breathless.

Castiel tastes sweet, like syrup, and Dean goes pliant in his arms giving in to the other man's rare, but welcomed show of dominance.

"You're frisky this morning," Dean tries to say as Castiel bites at his bottom lip and runs his hands along Dean's flank, "maybe you should go away more often."

"I'm beginning to think you like it when I'm away," Castiel retorts to Dean's smug demeanor. He grasps Dean's hips firmly before manhandling him onto the counter and kissing his way from Dean's throat to his navel and then mouthing at Dean's cock that's quickly filling in his boxer briefs.

"Ahhhh," Dean lets out as Castiel works him out of his underwear and licks obscenely along his length before taking Dean into his mouth completely. "Shit, _fuck_ , Cas," Dean chokes, one hand tangling in Castiel's hair, the other gripping the lip of the counter with vice-like surety. "I don't like it when you're away," he explains between panting and trying not to grip Cas' hair too tight, "just like it when you come home. Especially when you come home- ah, right there- horny."

Castiel looks up at Dean through the dark fringe of his lashes and hums around Dean's arousal, the deep vibrations of his voice sending a shock of pleasure washing over Dean. His head falls back and lands with a thud on the cabinets behind him and he closes his eyes and mutters, "This cannot be sanitary," half-heartedly.

Castiel pulls off momentarily, fixing his calculated blue stare on Dean, "You say that as if we've never had sex in the kitchen before," he points out before fixing his lips back on Dean.

"Not complainin'," Dean corrects around an especially labored breath, "just stating a fact."

Castiel hums again and the room falls quiet aside from Dean's _oh fucks_ and messy breathing and the sound of Castiel working his tongue and mouth over Dean's erection.

Dean comes down Castiel's throat minutes later, Cas pulling off far enough to be able to swallow, and he tugs at Castiel's hair until the other man is raising himself to meld their lips together.

Dean kisses the taste of his own spend out of Castiel's mouth as he slides off the counter and spins them around, pushing Castiel up against their rickety, old fridge causing it to rustle under Castiel's weight.  

They make out against the fridge, magnets careening to the ground, papers fluttering in their wake, as Dean pushes at the waistband of Castiel's underwear until they're sliding down his hips and pooling around his ankles. Dean takes Castiel in hand, reveling in the weight of the other man's long warmth in his hand and begins to stroke him in earnest.

"Ah- _Dean_ ," Castiel gasps, his hands moving to grasp Dean's sides. He lets his head fall back and rest on the refrigerator door as Dean sucks marks into the underside of his jaw and bites at Castiel's earlobe, worrying the flesh between his teeth.

Dean's fist remains tight and sure around Castiel as he works the other man to climax, Castiel panting out obscenities when Dean twists or squeezes just right. He watches greedily as Castiel's eyes fly shut and his mouth falls open; it's been five days since they've last seen each other, five days since they were last together like this and Dean can't help but drink in every little detail like it's their very first time together.

Before long Castiel's body jerks against Dean's and his fingernails dig into Dean's back and then he's spilling all over Dean's hand, his mouth forming a perfect O as he breathes through the intensity of his orgasm.

 When his eyes open once more Dean is smiling at him wide and satisfied, taking in the clouded, blissed out blue that is Castiel's eyes.

"Lemme guess," Dean says, "that was enjoyable?"

Castiel nods, "Very much so," he agrees.

Dean's hands come to rest on either side of Cas' face and he covers Castiel's mouth with his own, sighing as they kiss lazily, legs like Jell-O and brains fogged over with pleasure.

"I'm glad you're home," Dean states quietly, bumping their noses together.

"Me too," Castiel agrees. His eyes flutter closed as Dean kisses at his eyelids and then rests his forehead on Cas'.

They stay like that, basking in each other's nearness for a few long moments before Dean is kissing Castiel's forehead and wiggling out of his underwear completely.

"C'mon," he says, "it's time for a shower."

 

When they're both scrubbed clean and wrapped in towels Dean pads out of the bathroom after Castiel and watches as Cas paws through their dresser with a scowl on his face.

"What's your problem?" Dean asks.

"All of my clothes are dirty," Castiel answers as he digs a pair of Dean's old jeans out of the back of one of their drawers. There are holes in one of the back pockets and on the right knee and the hems on the legs are frayed, but once they're riding low on Castiel's hips, showing the waistband of his underwear and his happy trail Dean can't help but think they look good on the other man.

"Well it _is_ laundry day," Dean finally points out as he scrounges for clothes of his own to wear. Castiel is pulling on one of Dean's faded, black band t-shirts which leaves Dean with a worn plaid shirt that's just a tad too small for him and a pair of his jeans that look nearly just as distressed as the pair Castiel is sporting.

Castiel sighs dramatically, "Why couldn't laundry day have been yesterday?" he asks.

Dean offers him a cheeky grin, "I didn't want you to miss it."

"Dean, you know how much I hate laundry day."

"Not as much as I love seeing you in my clothes," Dean counters with a peck to Castiel's lips, "now quit your whining. You had a bunch of your clothes with you anyway and I didn't want to go down there twice, capisce?"  

Castiel sighs again. "Yeah, I capsice."

"Good."

They gather up all of their clothes in laundry baskets and bags and haul it all down to the bottom floor of their apartment where a row of aged, barely operating washing machines and four industrial sized dryers reside.

Since there are only two other tenants in the building they can usually get away with using all the machines at once and so they sort their laundry into four different washers and start them all with the quarters Dean carried down in a Ziploc bag.

Technically they could leave their clothes and come back when they're ready to be put in the dryers, but the last time they left their clothes unattended Chuck's girlfriend, Becky, had gone in and folded all of their laundry and handed it back to them with starry eyes and a coy smile.

Dean had been forever creeped out that some over-enthusiastic girl that didn't even live in their building had fondled his underwear without his knowledge and after that had vowed never to leave their clothes unattended again.

Instead Castiel climbs atop the washing machines, sketch book in one hand and bag of charcoal in the other and Dean settles into one of the hard, plastic chairs lining the walls and begins flipping through an issue of Hemmings Classic Car.

An easy silence falls between them, no sounds in the room other than the whir of the washing machine and the gentle flutter of pages and after a few minutes Dean looks up from his magazine and studies Castiel as he draws.

It's one of those things Dean will never get tired of, watching Castiel slip into that space in his brain that he goes to when he creates, and even after being with Castiel for over two years and learning everything there is to know about him, watching Castiel fall into his art is still one of Dean's most favorite things.  

He watches as Castiel's fingers move about the page he's working on, shading images in and blending colors together, his bottom lip held between his teeth and his back curved just so that his shirt rides up a little in the back and as Dean watches, a need grows within him to be near Castiel in a way it feels like he hasn't been in so long; to feel the other man's skin beneath his hands, to be close enough to see the click in his jaw when he swallows and smell the mint of Castiel's toothpaste on his breath.

Dean pushes up from his chair and crosses the laundry room, coming to stand in front of Castiel.

Cas stops sketching to look up at Dean and Dean offers him a wolfish grin in an attempt to mask the neediness he's actually feeling. "Hey," Dean says.

"Hello, Dean," Castiel replies, his blue eyes glittering with a smile.

Dean reaches down and tugs the sketchbook out of Castiel's hands and drops it on the washing machine next to him before wrapping his arms around Castiel's back and pulling him close. He tucks his head in the crook of Castiel's neck and breathes the other man in, relaxing against Castiel's body and the washer he's seated on.

"I vote no more trips for Mr. Fancy Artist until Dumb College Guy can go with him." Dean knows he sounds clingy, but he and Castiel haven't spent as much time apart as they have this month since they began dating and it's been difficult to deal with.

Castiel's hands, that have moved to caress through Dean's hair, still and Castiel pulls Dean away and cups his face in his hands, locking his eyes with Dean's.

Dean waits for the chastisement, the lecture on how being gone has been good for Castiel's career and Dean should know that, but it never comes. Instead Castiel's thumbs rub lightly along Dean's cheek bones and his eyes go soft and knowing as he says, "I'm sorry I've been gone so much. I don't like it either." and bends to kiss Dean gently on the lips.

"And you're not dumb, Dean," Castiel adds when they pull apart, "you're a brilliant, kind, wonderful man and I love you."

Dean can't help but smile at that. "I don't know about that other stuff," he counters, "but, I love you too."

Castiel shakes his head then bends to kiss Dean once more.

By the time the washers finish their cycles, Dean's lips are kiss-swollen and red, his face streaked with charcoal from Castiel's fingertips and Castiel's legs are wrapped around Dean's waist, the heels of his bare feet digging into Dean's back as their kisses go from light and easy to hungry and heated.

"We should probably stop before I take you right here over this washing machine," Dean pants when the washers grow quiet.

Castiel smirks at him, "You act as if that's never happened before either."

A goofy grin grows on Dean's face as the memory of fucking Castiel in Cas' campus laundromat a few years ago becomes prominent in his brain. It had been rushed and fumbled, but definitely hot and remains one of Dean's most favorite memories.

"That was pretty fun, huh?" he comments as Castiel slides off the washing machine and begins pulling wet clothes out and dropping them into one of their baskets.  

"If you consider being equal parts pleasured and scared out of your mind that someone would walk in on you at any moment fun, then yes," Castiel agrees, "It was pretty fun."

"I do," Dean answers with a smirk.

Castiel shakes his head, but Dean doesn't miss the small smile playing at his lips.

They transfer their clothes from the washers to the dryers and when the sound of wet clothing being turned by the dryer fills the air Dean settles back into his seat and Castiel sprawls out on the other chairs next to him, resting his head in Dean's lap and lifting Dean's shirt enough to be able to place a kiss to Dean's tummy.

"Can we take a picnic to the park when we're done with laundry?" Castiel asks, "It's nice out today."

"Sure," Dean agrees as he cards his fingers through Castiel's too long hair. "I think we have some bread that went bad while you were gone. We can feed it to the ducks while were there."

Dean doesn't quite understand Castiel's fascination with feeding the ducks at the park, but it's fun to watch him anyway so Dean never complains.

Castiel's eyes light up. "Okay," he says.

Dean bends and presses a kiss to Castiel's lips. "Okay," he repeats.

 

After their clothes have dried and been folded and put away Dean packs them both a lunch and they head down to the park just a few miles from their apartment building. It's large, with a wide, open, grassy space for children to run around on and is littered with big, leafy trees that offer enough shade to make the park enjoyable even on the warmer days of the summer.  

They find a spot near the pond and under a tree and lay out the afghan from the couch before settling in to eat the lunch Dean prepared.

It's warm out, only a light breeze breaking up the heat of the summer, and there are families scattered all over the grounds, laughing and playing with one another as the sun beats down on their backs. Not far from them ducks and swans paddle across the pond, dipping their heads in the cool water and quaking and honking shrilly at one another.

As they eat Dean's eyes are drawn to a young family seated not too far from them. The father is chasing two young children around, their squeals and laughter filling the air, while the mother smiles at them and snaps pictures of her family.

Dean smiles as he watches them, his mind briefly flicking to when he and Sam were smaller and enjoyed similar days with John and Mary.

"What are you thinking about, Dean?" Castiel asks.

Dean turns his gaze to Castiel and realizes the other man has been watching him. "You ever think about having kids?" he asks staring down at the paper plate in his hands, unsure of how Castiel will react. Having kids isn't something they've talked much about, but seeing as they're getting married at some point, Dean figures the kid-talk might as well happen sooner rather than later. He'd at least like to know where Castiel stands on the matter.

"Of our own?" Castiel wonders.

"Yeah. I mean, not right now, obviously. But maybe when we're, y'know, more settled or something."

"How many children are you talking about, Dean?" Castiel asks. There's no accusation in his voice, just curiosity and it sets Dean at ease.

"I don't know," Dean answers honestly with a shrug, "two? Three, maybe? However many we could afford and still stay sane." He flashes a smile at Castiel.

"I think you'd be a wonderful father, Dean," Castiel offers.

Pride blooms in Dean's chest and he drops his gaze back to his plate. "Yeah?" he asks.

Castiel smiles and bumps his shoulder with Dean's. "Yeah."

"Thanks, baby. I think you'd be a great dad too."

Castiel leans in and pecks Dean on the lips. "Perhaps someday we'll test that theory," he says.

A smile grows on Dean's face and he tosses his empty plate to the side and tackles Castiel onto the afghan, kissing him breathless as they fall.

They may not have a lot of money and their lives may be a bit scattered at the moment, but the thought of being with Castiel forever, raising kids with him and growing old with him is enough to keep Dean happy for a lifetime.

 


End file.
